


i wanna get under your skin

by fictionalportal



Category: Amar a Muerte (TV), Juliantina (TV)
Genre: Cuddling & Snuggling, F/F, Flirting, Fluff, Getting to Know Each Other, Juliana POV, Pre-Relationship, Protective Valentina, Val finally gets that girls' night, actual cavity warning for how grossly sweet this is, by convincing Juls to do face masks, inspired by my sudden love for skin care, listen these two fully own my ass, near the beginning, pure fluff, when they're still getting to know each other, wholesome content all around
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-19
Updated: 2019-03-19
Packaged: 2019-11-24 10:05:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,132
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18163778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fictionalportal/pseuds/fictionalportal
Summary: “How is having something stuck to your face relaxing?”“Come over tomorrow.”“Okay, sure. Wait, Val, no--”It takes her about a minute to get to the door. And then there she is, wearing the brightest grin in the world.How can I not smile back when she looks at me like that?





	i wanna get under your skin

**Author's Note:**

> i dove headfirst into this ship over the weekend and have not yet surfaced for air. 
> 
> title inspired by the song from [this fan vid](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JZ1gWZu3Xpw) which quite frankly replenishes my soul every time i watch it.

I think I’m finally getting used to the sight of the Carvajal mansion. As the driver pulls up, the house stretches taller until I can barely see the sunset sky over the roof. It was imposing at first, but now it’s sort of comforting. All-encompassing. Nothing from the outside world can find me here. Val says this house is cold, that sometimes she goes days without seeing anyone but Silvina. Can you imagine being able to hide from your family in your own house? I wouldn’t do it all the time, of course, but sharing a room with my mother...well, it’s not ideal.

“Thanks,” I tell Alirio when he opens my door.

He nods. “It’s always a pleasure.” Last time he picked me up, I asked him what his favorite places in the city are. I remember how his face lit up as he rattled off a few street food trucks--most of the people he drives don’t bother asking such things, he said. On our way to the house this time, he stopped and bought us a couple of burgers. I’m not terribly hungry, but it’s too good not to eat. Alirio has excellent taste.

As I reach the front door and finish the last of my food, I ring the bell. I wonder, for the hundredth time today, how I ever ended up here. In this city, at this house.

There’s one thing I never question, though I do worry about what I’ve gotten myself into tonight. Yesterday I told Val that I’d never done a face mask before, and I think I heard her stop breathing through the phone.

_“Never?”_

_“No. Why would I?”_

_“It’s relaxing!”_

_“How is having something stuck to your face relaxing?”_

_“Come over tomorrow.”_

_“Okay, sure. Wait, Val, no--”_

_“You’ll like it, Juliana. I promise. What’s your skin type?”_

_“My what?”_

_“You know. Dry, oily, combination...”_

_“I don’t know. It’s skin. Face skin.”_

_“Okay, okay. You know what? I’ll buy a few different masks, you come over, and we’ll figure out the perfect one for you.”_

_“...Fine.”_

Alright, I didn’t put up much of a fight. Maybe I’m curious.

It takes her about a minute to get to the door. And then there she is, wearing the brightest grin in the world.

How can I not smile back when she looks at me like that?

“Come in, come in!” She takes my hand and pulls me upstairs. Her excitement is contagious, I think. It’s almost nine at night, but she bounces up the stairs like it’s Christmas morning.

She closes the door to her room. I don’t think anyone else is here, but it's still nice. Another wall between us and everything else. It doesn’t matter that I’ve only come over a few times; I always feel like I can breathe a little better here.

Until Val hugs me, that is. Then it’s all warmth and pressure and the smell of something sweet in her hair.

“Val,” I manage, strained.

She releases me from the tight embrace, and the sweet smell is gone. “Sorry, sorry. You're gonna love this.” The next second, that mischievous expression returns as she gestures to her bed.

I raise an eyebrow just to tease her (it’s too easy sometimes). There must be a dozen face masks laid out. 

“Like I said, it’s relaxing. And fun. Sounds good, right?”

I glance down at the floor before looking back at the bed. She’s not wrong. Sometimes--most of the time--I can hardly believe everything that’s happening. None of it seems real. Moving, break-ins, my mother, my _father_ \--

“Hey,” Val says, her fingers brushing over my cheek to tuck a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “What’s up?”

“Nothing.” I want it to be the truth, so I decide that it is. There are enough locks, walls, and guards here that I don’t have to keep looking over my shoulder. Not with her.

The way she scans my face without blinking makes me wonder if she sees right through me.

My hand finds hers. “Thanks for inviting me tonight.”

“Juls--”

“I’m okay, Val.”

“You’d tell me if you weren’t?”

“Being here honestly makes me feel better. I’m good.” I smile without having to force it, something that I’m finding happens more and more around her.

She laughs--giggles, really--and lets her hand fall to her side. “Okay. Because you have a very important decision to make.” She looks back at the bed, and it takes me a moment to remember that she’s talking about the masks. Not that she could mean anything else by it, right?

I circle the bed and pick up a flat, pink plastic package. “‘Strawberry milk?’”

She sweeps up next to me, apparently still giddy about the whole thing. “What?”

“What, what? I’m not putting this on my face.”

“Fine. Cucumber aloe?” She picks up a light green package and waves it around.

“How am I supposed to choose? I don't know what any of these do.”

“Okay, okay. Sit down.” She tosses the mask aside and sinks onto the edge of the bed.

I join her, careful not to sit on any of the masks.

“Let me see,” she says. Then she leans in.

I glance around the room, not sure what I’m supposed to do while she scrutinizes my skin.

She rubs my forehead with her thumb. “There's a little oil here...”

When she exhales, it tickles my nose. Surely she doesn’t have to be this close. She must be checking every pore on my face, but then suddenly she doesn’t seem so focused. Something shifts in her piercing gaze, softening. I wonder if she’s forgotten about the face masks, too. It seems wrong to make eye contact, too daring--and so I do exactly that.

Val just stares at me for a second, and I don’t recognize the expression on her face. No one’s _ever_ looked at me like that. I swear the corners of her mouth twitch up...

With a sharp inhale, she pulls away and reaches all the way across the bed to grab something. When she pops up again, she’s holding a pink tube. “This one.”

I take it and read the label. “Rose clay, exfoliating, combination skin. I have no idea what this means.” I can’t help but laugh.

She laughs, too. “Come with me.” She takes my hand and leads me to the bathroom where deep pink walls frame the biggest, shiniest mirror I’ve ever seen.

“Don’t forget,” Val says, tapping her own nose before poking mine.

“Got it,” I answer.

She catches my eye in the mirror, flashes a quick smile, and leaves.

I squeeze a line of the gritty, pale clay onto my fingertips. It feels a little strange in my hands, but once I put some on my face it actually feels nice. I take extra care to cover my nose. A couple minutes later, there’s a pale, white zombie staring back at me in the mirror. I try snarling and raising my hands like claws, and I decide that I’d make a fairly convincing monster. I’ll see if Valentina agrees (How can I not? She’s too easy to prank).

She left the door to the bathroom open and I try to creep out without making any noise. I can see her feet hanging down off the side of the bed, the back of her gray pajama shirt, her hair falling in smooth waves over her shoulders.

Apparently I’m not as stealthy as I thought. When she turns around, she’s not the one who screams.

“What is that?!” I shout.

She sits up. Her entire face is covered with a white sheet except for her eyes, nostrils, and mouth. “What’s what?” She asks innocently.

“You look like that serial killer with the hockey mask.” I try to hold back from snickering too obviously as I kneel on the bed next to her.

She tilts her head and scoots a little closer to me. “You look like someone threw a pie at your face.”

“Do I?”

“Yes. Very pretty.”

“Oh, thank you.” It must be getting late because I can’t stop giggling. “So what do we do now?”

“We can watch something.”

“As long as it’s not the hockey mask horror movie.”

“Okay.”

We curl up against the headboard with Val’s laptop playing some cooking show that fortunately doesn’t take a lot of effort to follow. Not that I’m really paying attention--I can feel my eyelids getting heavier and heavier. I’m pretty sure I’m supposed to keep my face very still for the next hour, but I definitely crack the clay by accident when Val tucks in against my shoulder. After only a few minutes, I lose all interest in the show and let my eyes stay closed.

I wake up suddenly, not sure where I am. There's an impossibly soft pillow under my head. It’s dark: no computer, no light on. Another pair of feet is tangled up with mine. Under the blanket, I can feel an arm across my waist. Gentle breath on my neck. A chill runs up my back despite the unmistakable source of heat pressed against my side.

I try to turn my head as slightly as possible and I see, I remember. Val. I’m here, she’s here. And the moonlight streaming through the window strikes her bare cheek with a perfect silver highlight. She must have gotten up, taken off her mask, and turned off the lights.

“Val?” I whisper. Part of me doesn’t want to wake her, but I have to get up. There’s still clay on my nose.

She groans a little, like a puppy growling at a toy.

“Val,” I repeat, poking her in the ribs. “You let me fall asleep with mud on my face.”

“It’s fine,” she dismisses. “You can leave it on all night.”

“Let me up.”

She protests, grumbling and tightening her grip around my waist.

I grab her hand and lift her arm off of me. “I’ll be right back.”

“Hmm, okay,” she concedes, tugging the blankets closer as I pull away and return to the bathroom. Fortunately, the clay mask peels right off. I splash some water on my face and fall back into bed as quickly as I can, missing the warmth too much.

Val tosses the corner of the blanket back and I climb in next to her.

“Go back to sleep,” I say, barely louder than a whisper.

“Did the mask work?” She asks.

“I don’t know. How do you tell?”

“Feel,” she insists, finding my hand under the sheets and bringing it up to touch her cheek. It’s soft and smooth, smells like rain and--am I too close to her?

Something tells me to put space between us, but I’m too tired to bother listening. “And mine?” I ask.

Even in the faint, gray light, her eyes sparkle flawlessly as they watch me, heavy blinks interrupting. I expect her to reach for my forehead again, but she kisses me there instead. Her lips linger between my brows. Just when I start to wonder if she’s fallen asleep like that, she retreats back towards her own pillow.

She bites her bottom lip and for a moment, I barely remember that I’m in her room, in her house. The blankets keep us safe--from the night’s chill, from the things hiding in the dark. Everything outside of this bed is hazy, impossible to recognize and unimportant for a few fleeting seconds.

Should I say something? She’s looking at me like she expects me to, but I can’t think of anything. Suddenly, I’m blinking fast and feeling like I just drank two cups of coffee, sweating and jittery.

“Go back to sleep,” Val teases.

So soon? How am I supposed to do that? I don’t know why, but I don’t want to sleep again just yet. Not when we could keep talking. Finally, I come up with something. “We didn’t finish that TV show. What was it?”

She huddles into the blankets more, wrapping her shoulders tightly. “No idea.”

“You picked it.”

The blankets shrug. “I wasn’t really paying attention.”

I laugh for the hundredth time that night. “Me neither.”

Val's shining grin probably makes the resting sun jealous.

“Thank you,” I say again. “Seriously.”

“Why do you say it like I’m doing you a favor? I like spending time with you.”

I stutter when I try to respond.

“And I should really be thanking _you_ ,” she continues.

“Why?”

“My room is usually much colder.” She wraps her arms around me again and clings like a koala.

I wonder why it’s so easy for her to make me feel so warm. When I fall asleep for the second time that night, it’s with Val’s arms around me.

***


End file.
